


home is where the heart is

by officiallylexie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, enjoy it anyway, louis is nostalgic and harry is sweet, there's no smut cos i'm trash but, they roast marshmallows, this is really just a cute fluffy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiallylexie/pseuds/officiallylexie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where harry brings home to louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is where the heart is

**Author's Note:**

> this is so short i'm sorry please enjoy anyway. it's based on a prompt i read somewhere idk

it’s late, very late actually. louis is exhausted to the point where he can feel the need for sleep settling into his bones more and more by the minute. he’s so tired, but his mind is so awake, can’t seem to settle down for a second. he wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he tried. he thinks harry knows that because he keeps blinking like he’s trying to stay awake for louis, mumbling little things, stories.

“y’know,” harry mumbles, face pressed into louis’ neck. his breath is warm and soft, comforting in a way that relaxes louis, relaxes his mind a little. “i found this dry leaf between the pages of that notebook, the black one. i’d forgotten about it until i opened up that little sidepocket of my bag. it’s from one of the first camping trips we took to the north.”

he chuckles, low and soft against louis’ neck and the memory of that trip hits louis like a train. 

he remembers the giddiness and how they spent nearly their entire morning there trying to figure out how to set up the tent. harry had insisted that he knew how, but he didn’t really. he was clumsy with it, tripping over the poles and stakes. louis had just sat back and watched, observed, he’d called it. 

there was so much mud on the bottom of their shoes after that trip that they hadn’t even bothered to clean them, just threw them in the back of their closet and forgot about them.

louis remembers how harry had singed a bit of his hair while attempting to set up the fire. he remembers the secrets they shared over roasted marshmallows and the fumbling around in their sleeping bags.

even then, so early on; they’d just met, yet it was like they’d known each other forever. and who’s to say that they hadn’t? louis believes in that kind of thing, knowing someone before you really know they exist or something like that.

they couldn’t keep their hands and mouths off of each other and louis craves it more than air suddenly, more than the success and the spotlight and the travelling the world with his best friends. he craves the quiet and the secrecy and something just and so _theirs_.

“i miss,” he whispers, but he doesn’t say the rest. he just slides his hand under the back of harry’s shirt and cuddles closer, writes the rest of the sentence on the boy’s back with his fingertips, h-o-m-e.

they’re quiet for a while, still and steady in each other’s arms. and harry kisses him, soft and slow. it’s nice and louis sighs into it, kisses him back with everything he has, really. well, with as much as he can muster underneath the lack of sleep that's weighing him down.

they kiss until exhaustion finally catches up to them and they fall asleep, their faces pressed together and each of their breaths falling on the other’s mouth.

 

*

 

it’s eight o’clock at night when louis enters the hotel room the next day, coming back from the shops with liam. it’s dark when he walks inside. like, it’s completely pitch black and louis is really confused because harry is supposed to be there. louis can barely see anything, but he makes out the way the curtains are tightly pulled closed and the lamps are unplugged.

when he reaches for the light, harry’s voice emerges from the dark.

it’s a simple, _“don’t, just close the door,”_ so louis does. he turns to the side slightly and slowly shuts the door, letting it click loudly in the deathly silence. 

as soon as louis turns around to look for harry in the dark, a string of lights are lit. they’re wrapped around the curtains and the bathroom door and along the edges of the floor. he sees harry sitting at the opening of a tent, the same tent they had slept in on their camping trip to northern england. louis feels very nostalgic. 

the furniture has been moved around and pushed up against the walls so there’s a big enough space. there’s a little stove in front of the tent. louis looks at harry and cocks his head to the side, speechless.

harry smiles shyly in return, biting on his lip before clearing his throat and speaking. “uh, since we can’t go home just yet, for a while, i brought, uh, i brought home to you.” his voice curves up at the end like a question, like it always does when he says something cheesy and isn’t sure if louis will laugh at him or not.

and really, louis means to tell him, _’my home is you; wherever i am, wherever you are. home is when and wherever i’m with you,’_ but he doesn’t want to beat harry at the cheeseball game he’s got going on tonight, so he just lets out a noise somewhere between and laugh and a dry sob because harry is perfect and he’s a shit all at the same time. 

he walks over to where his boy is and smiles, sits beside him and curls into his side. he makes himself small in harry’s arms, lets himself be comforted and held, lets himself be vulnerable. 

“marshmallows?” harry asks, pulls out a bag and smiles down at louis. he doesn’t much wait for louis to answer and instead, puts the marshmallows on a metal stick and turns on the stove. 

louis is handed a stick with his own two marshmallows on the end and holds it over the fire on the stove. as he watches the flames singe them, he whispers quietly against harry’s chest, “thank you for this, yeah? i think it’s lovely. you really didn’t have to.”

harry doesn’t say anything back, just kisses louis on the forehead and proceeds to roast his own two marshmallows. louis feels his fingertips gently running up and down his waist.

when louis looks up again, he realises that his marshmallows are on fire and squeaks, pulling them away from the stove quickly and blowing on them forcefully. it works and louis pouts when he sees that one side of each of his marshmallows are black.

he looks up at harry, who’s laughing loudly and shaking his head. louis shoves his burnt marshmallows into his big, stupid mouth. that shuts him up at least and the boy eats them, still giggling quietly.

“you’re a twat. that was your fault. you distracted me,” louis huffs and lays down on the floor, kicking his feet into the air. “roast them for me, golden brown.”

there’s rustling around to the side and louis smirks, sees that harry’s getting out two more marshmallows and putting them on the metal stick, hovering them over the fire along with his own. 

harry’s always been better at roasting marshmallows than louis, even though louis will never say that outloud. 

it’s a few moments before louis hears harry’s soft, “here,” and takes the stick from him. he thanks him quietly and stuffs the marshmallows into his mouth, humming in satisfaction. harry does the same, getting a little bit of marshmallow around his mouth and louis grins, sits up and climbs on top of him, kissing him deeply and pushing him back so that he’s laying down.

“mm, love you,” he whispers quietly and harry smiles, whispers it back against his lips. 

louis sits up and turns the stove off, rolling off of harry and crawling into the tent. harry follows him, of course he does, and they zip it up. as soon as harry lays down on his sleeping bag, louis lays down on top of him and rests his head on his chest. harry’s a good pillow, has always been louis’ favourite thing to sleep on.

he starts to feel tired as he feels harry’s fingertips tracing the edges of his spine, hears his heart beating in his chest. he’s peaceful, more peaceful and calm than he’s been in a while. he thinks he needed this and even though he won’t tell harry that, louis knows that harry knows it. harry always knows, maybe even before louis does.

harry pulls the small, soft blanket over them and kisses louis’ forehead before closing his eyes. louis does the same, tracing patterns onto harry’s chest through his shirt with his fingertips. 

“thank you,” he whispers again before he falls asleep cuddled up with his boy. and for the first time in a long time, the screaming quiets down long enough for it to feel like home again.

**Author's Note:**

> so i hope you enjoyed this. literally the only reason i wrote this is because i knew jenna would kick my ass if i didn't.
> 
> you can find me on twitter @hindizayn if you wanna talk!
> 
> leave comments and bookmarks and all that lovely stuff
> 
> in case you're curious, after this fic i'll be writing a very very smutty one with dom/sub stuff and bottom!harry lov


End file.
